


Yes, this is good

by Allegory



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Cute, Fluff, M/M, Vanilla, VictUuri, Victor x Yuri, Victuri, and all the shinding in between, gays being gay, kiss, osaka vacation, sweet potatoes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 03:47:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8562673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allegory/pseuds/Allegory
Summary: Yuri notices, of course. You can't not notice when Victor looks at you. There's a sort of hunger in his eyes that Yuri doesn't think the potatoes can quell.





	

One time Yuri thinks to himself,  _ yes, this is good. _

They’re heading down the streets of Osaka one night, on an indefinite vacation away from anyone they know. Expectantly Yuri is the one who does all the packing, cleaning and organizing while Victor lounges on their queen-sized bed, flipping through channels, kicking his feet in the air.

It’s eight p.m. and the skies hang overcast above them, clouds roiling about the sliver of a shy moon. Yuri adjusts the black mustache taped to his philtrum, brushes the beanie that sinks almost past his brow. Victor is fabulous in his shawl, mirrored glasses and brown wig, only because despite the poor quality of their props Victor is always fabulous. Though a little more intimidating than usual, there’s no mistaking the devious quirk of his lip as they banter down the sidewalk.

Two hours have passed and the thongs have dissipated, steaming into the cold night air. Yuri and Victor stand outside a sweet potato shop, the former gobbling, muttering praise of the local cuisine. Victor does more nibbling than eating, soaking in the view, in front...and next to him.

Yuri notices, of course. You can't not notice when Victor looks at you. There's a sort of hunger in his eyes that Yuri doesn't think the potatoes can quell.

A while after the store has closed down, the two of them are walking back to the train station, shoulders pressed against each other’s. Neon lights blink beyond, a spectacle that appears odd against the silence, like a muted movie. Somewhere along the way Victor drops behind and Yuri turns, glances around for a moment.

He closes the distance between them and places his hand against Victor’s chest, just below the last rack of his ribcage. Muscle and bone and a little more fat than Yuri’s fingers remember, the last time they had roamed the freckled planes of his torso, hot vapour climbing around them like trestles of bewitching ivy, an otherworldly spell. Yuri lowers his head briefly, his body rigid, uncertain even now. Victor covers Yuri’s hand with his own and lifts them up to his neck, cupping his cheek. He leans in and all the space between them feels like the broadness of space, Yuri’s throat dry as sands of the Saudi desert.

“Here?” Victor asks. It's uncharacteristic of him. It also ruins the mood, and Yuri makes a note to admonish him about it at some point.

“Yes,” Yuri answers anyway. He leans in as a car speeds by and suddenly his moustache tears free, fluttering like a bird in the wind. Yuri jumps back and rubs the space above his upper lip, an almost traumatic look on his face. A shopkeeper on the other side of the road, closing down for the day, stares at the two of them and realises that there is something familiar about Victor’s easy grace as he strides towards the kid in the beanie. She reckons she’d seen a familiar pair on TV just a couple days ago.

Wait. The shopkeepers looks at a poster taped to the wall outside her shop, featuring the recent Olympic gold medalist in a black costume, riddled with quartz and crystals.

Another car passes by and the pair vanishes. The shopkeeper wonders if it's just been a long day.

* * *

Victor and Yuri get back to the hotel room that night breaking a sweat, relieved that they hadn't drawn a crowd. It'd taken Yuri’s family quite a few liberties to secure their ghosting from home, though the publicity brought about by Victor’s constant advertisement sure put a fortune in the Katsuki bank.

Victor composes himself first, a lifetime of hard work welded in his unfaltering body. Yuri still has a crisis fixed along his narrowed eyebrows and he just looks hilarious with his beanie askew, stray hairs peeking out of the wool, a red print where his moustache had been. Victor starts to laugh, the sound of it spreading like an infection.

They've moved to the bed when it ebbs. A faint blush has shaded Victor’s cheeks and Yuri thinks to himself that he looks better this way, all life and blood, the way he had looked when Yuri jumped on him and the gold medal clinked between them. Neither speak under the dim yellow bulbs, but they both know what to do, and this time no moustache keeps them from the bits of sweet potatoes on their lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Inbox me if you'd like to collab on anything! It's been a long time since I've worked with someone else haha.


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